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Voices of the Past, Present 
and Future 



BY 

JOSEPH BUSHNELL 




JACKSON, MINNESOTA 
MCMIX 



The Banker's Lesson 

A banker had been brought up under religious 
influences, but had not become a Christian, although 
conscience gave him no peace for not having done so. 
Returning from his oflSce at the close of a day during 
which the first snows of winter had fallen, he met two 
little boys thinly clad and shivering with cold, yet still 
trying to cheer each other and make the best of the 
situation. Here is where our story begins : 

The banker had sat all day at his desk. 

He was weary and sad, with care oppressed. 

For, although he had gold, aye, thousands to spare, 

"What is gold," he said, "gold, when the heart's in 

despair ? 
Many friends have I who my gold would share. 
What are friends bought with gold when the heart's in 

despair ? 

days of my childhood, how joyous and fair, 

'T is true I was poor, but contentment was there. 
Now, my heart has grown cold, like this snow laden air. 
What is gold, bright gold, when the heart's in despair ? 

1 have houses, and lands, and palatial store. 

But my joys have all fled. Will they come no more ? " 
Just then he met two ragged street boys 
And heard at his side a bright, cheery voice. 
" See, Johnny, the snow has covered the grass below, 
But it 's summer yet, Johnny, under the snow." 

[9] 



10 Voices of the Past 

The banker long pondered those sweet, simple words, 

Somehow they recalled the song of the birds 

On the sunny hillside; his dear mother's prayers 

When they lived in a cottage. Would God he were there. 

*'0 God! I am weary, heart weary of sin. 

Drive out this cold winter, let summer come in. 

Let the song birds sing, and the flowers blow. 

And new life spring from beneath the snow. 

Long I 've denied thee what was thine own, 

Long to the world and to self I have sown. 

I 've given to thee scarce a thought, or a prayer 

While thy gifts to me have been free as air. 

Little of joy or peace, have I known, 

For duty undone, has left sorrow alone; 

Yon barefooted boy in this bleak, winter air 

I envy, O God ! for my heart's in despair. 

Forgive me, I pray, if forgiveness there be, 

O God of my life, for a sinner like me. 

Henceforth I '11 not bow at Mammon's gilt shrine. 

But now, and forever, my heart shall be thine. 

The wealth thou hast given, I no longer will hoard, 

'T is thine, O thou God, I so long have ignored. 

The lowly and poor, thy bounty shall share. 

And I '11 trust in thee fully to save from despair." 



Present and Future 11 

Christian at Mount Sinai 
and Calvary 

No man ere climbed that height, or will, 
Save He whose cross crowned Calvary's hill. 
On its beetling crag the Pilgrim saw 
These dreadful words, "By deeds of law." 
No man is justified nor saved. 
No word of hope is there engraved. 
This pathway barred, his glance then lit upon 
A cross upraised and Him who hung thereon. 
Hard by the cross, on hither side, a gate. 
O'er it he read, *'This gate is called straight. 
So straight it is, that none can entrance find 
Save those who leave all weight of sin behind." 
Doubting, the Pilgrim stood, wistful to pass 
Lest, burdened thus he be shut out at last. 
"Knock, it shall be opened." 'T was the voice 
Of Him who hung transfixed upon the cross. 
More words He spake of hope and loving cheer, 
With look the Pilgrim cost the penitential tear. 
O, Conquering Love, majestic love divine, 
O Christ ! Such gift to man is thine ! 
Thus 't was this fainting soul, weary of sin. 
Looked on His face, believed, and entered in. 
One step within the gate this wonder wrought. 
His burden's crushing weight he felt as naught. 



12 Voices of the Past 

His load of sin was loosed, 't was gone, 

And then there fell into his heart a song, 

First strain of that *'New Song," which those alone 

Redeemed will sing around God's throne. 



Present and Future 13 

Christian in the Narrow Way 

Thus far on my pilgrim way, 

Back turned earthward, face towards day. 

Stumbling often: prone to stray. 

Shunning Sinai; cast at Calvary 

All my load of sin and woe. 

Darkness fleeing. Hope's star beaming 

Rays of brightness o'er my soul. 

If the storm comes round me lashing. 

Ne'er its waves shall o'er me roll. 

Keep me, Lord, from fatal straying. 

Keep my footsteps in Thy way. 

May my love to Thee, still growing, 

Bind me close with Thee to stay. 



14 Voices of the Past 

Christian in Doubting Castle 

Ah me, Ah me ! And is it all in vain, 

That I have walked, and fought Apolyon in a rain 

Of fire, that hell's high Priest alone could send ? 

'Gainst that fierce storm the heavens did defend; 

But now in Doubting Castle's loneliest cave 

I 'm pent, and e'en the Almighty has forgot to save. 

'T were better, far, that I had never been. 

Than in this lonesome dungeon find an end. 

Despair holds sway; hope seems forever fled. 

One ray of sun this Stygian gloom athwart 

I think would warm my almost frozen heart ; 

But heaven itself is shut against my prayer. 

Alas ! I fear I ne'er can enter there. 

My soul is like a ship dismantled. 

Driven before the wind, helpless and lost. 

The sea is bottomless; no anchor holds. 

And straight towards the rocks the billows roll. 

Ere long upon those looming breakers I shall strand 

That tower between me and the heavenly land. 

No light, no hope, no joy is left for me. 

No anchor safe I 'II reach; nor God, nor heaven see. 



Present and Future 15 



Christian's First Relapse 

**One day, one day of life to me so blest" 

Said Christian, with elated breath, as he sought rest 

Like a young soldier from a field fresh won, 

And dreamed of easy triumphs by to-morrow's sun. 

Poor man, one day that like to heaven seemed. 

And now his couch invaded by the fiend who taunts 

him thus, 
Roused roughly from his dream of bliss : 
*' Weak truant, didst thou think to escape me thus ? 
Me, who all power in earth and hell possess ? 
Nay, false one, here I '11 end thy short-lived heaven. 
Look where thou will to front, or rear, even 
(If thou darest) look up and thou shalt find 
No hope of succor. / reign king o'er all mankind." 
Aghast stood Christian with bewildered mien. 
For though his Lord had given him a weapon keen. 
Which none in all hell's leagued host could match. 
Yet he 'd forgotten the command to watch. 
And fear as well as conscience made him weak. 
For he who in such fight would win must seek 
Each avenue to guard with sleepless care, 
Lest the arch-enemy assail him where, 
(Both sword and shield forgot) he 's left in blank 

despair. 
The fiend spake true. To left or right, to front or rear 
The Pilgrim sought, but found no hope appear. 



16 Voices of the Past 

The heavens seemed shut to his beleaguered soul. 
In vain he tried to pray; instead, a roll 
That seemed like sound of an approaching doom 
Fell from the skies, nor dare one look towards heaven 

did he presume. 
Meantime, around him fell a fiery shower 
Of hellish shafts, so fearful long the storm did lower, 
So often was poor Christian wounded sore. 
Apolyon's threats that here his heaven should end, 
Were not in vain, save God some success send; 
When, sinking there; hope gone, and almost life; 
God's angel watching the unequal strife. 
Spoke to his soul these magic words : 
"He yet will save, the battles is the Lords." 
Hope lit once more his eye, his strength returned. 
He grasped both sword and shield the fight renewed. 
In turn the fiend was now abashed and roared 
With rage; from the opposing shield his darts glanced 

harmless. The sword 
Of Christian, flashing, with a dangerous glow. 
Both seared, and pierced with deadly thrusts, his foe. 
Who, erelong, cast down both spear, and shield. 
Spread forth his dragon's wings, and fled inglorious 

from the field. 



Present and Future 17 

Christian on Pisgah's Top 

Hail the first rays of eternity's sun, 

The storms are all past, heaven almost begun. 

I see far below the lightning's red flash. 

And the atmosphere quakes with the thunderbolts' 

crash. 
But my spirits out-winged all the dangers of earth, 
And soared far above, where the lightning has birth. 
Below, in the shadow, rolls Jordan's dark stream. 
But there's light in the valley; how welcome its gleam. 
The river is lined on its farthermost shore 
With beckoning angels gone on before. 
And One mightier than they, has said " I '11 be with 

thee" 
And I know the dark waters shall not overflow me. 
It seemeth not far to yon heavenly height. 
To the city of which "The Lord is the light." 
The streets are all golden, the gates amethyst. 
Even now I can see them, though the vale lies in mist. 
Its towers and walls with salvation are strong. 
Their guard against foes, an angelic throng. 
There 's a stream over there, 'tis the river of life. 
I shall drink its clear waters when endeth earth's strife. 
A tree on its banks blooms all the year round. 
"Its leaves to the healing of the nation abound." 
There 's a song that they sing, 'tis a " song ever new " 
Which is sweeter than any the angels e'er knew. 



18 Voices of the Past 

As I listen, I think I catch the first strain 

(Breathed soft through azure) of that glorious refrain. 

Soon I shall join the heavenly choir, 

Singing praises to God and the Lamb evermore. 



Present and Future 19 

The Dying Christian 

Calmly looking towards the shadowing west, 
Watching the low descending sun. 

His eager spirit plumed for mansions blest; 
Life's day at end, and heaven begun. 



20 Voices of the Past 

Eternal Probation 

God's mercy endureth forever — Bible 

Will mercy cease when sounds the knell of time ? 

Hope, is eternity no realm of thine ? 

Will heaven's door shut for once and aye, 

Leaving for Prodigals' return no way ? 

Is there no beacon on the heavenly shore 

That voyagers, in outer darkness there. 

Tossed on the wave, homesick, forlorn. 

May, guided by its ray, outride the storm ? 

Will the Eternal Father ne'er forgive, 

That those who come to him, may live ? 

An earthly parent seeks an erring son, 

However far he may have gone from home. 

And shall the All-loving One not seek to win 

His child, although he 's wandered far from Him ? 



Present and Future 21 

A Farewell to the Truckee 

From the topmost crag of Nevada's heights, 

From its depths of eternal snow, 
Leap the waters of Truckee, clear and bright, 

As they dash to the plain below. 
Of late, one sunny October day, 

I sat on its mossy banks, 
'Neath the shade of the stalwart pines that sway 

In serried guardian ranks. 
And thought, — as I heard the cataract's roar. 

And watched with a curious eye 
The spotted trout near the pebbly shore, 

And above, the cloud-flecked sky, — 
Of as bright a day in the long ago. 

When I trod these wilds before 
And saw afar, where capped with snow 

The mountains skyward tower. 
'T was eighteen hundred and fifty, then, 

And now it is ninety-three. 
For months we toiled o'er desert and plain 

From the east towards the sunset sea; 
From beyond the Mississippi's flood. 

From the land of the "Suckers" bold. 
Our steps we had turned in adventurous mood. 

Toward the far-off land of gold. 
We had marched, and camped, hunted and fought, 

(For the Utes and treacherous Siouxs 



22 Voices of the Past 

Roved in dusky bands,) and the bison sought 

These broad and grassy plains. 
We had ferried, and swam the turbid Platte, 

And looked from the Rockies down 
On the sweet waters' stream as its current lapped 

The sides of the canyons brown. 
From the Humboldt's side, where its brackish tide 

Sinks in the sands away. 
O'er deserts blank, as Sahara wide, 

We had won our tiresome way. 
With the scorching sand beneath our feet. 

And the scorching sun o'erhead. 
Tortured with thirst. By the tempting cheat 

Of the mirage oft misled. 
No wanderer in a desert lone 

Or ocean castaway 
Ere welcomed more the land, or home, 

Than we, that burning day 
The shade of the mountain larch, and the 

Bright Truckee's snow-fed wave. 
Now, along its banks runs the iron track. 

Full many a score of miles. 
And the locomotives' roar and shriek 

Fills the echoing defiles. 
In many a cozy nook and glade. 

White cottages surprise. 
In loveliness and thrift arrayed 

Romantic hamlets rise. 



Present and Future 23 

Kine graze upon the grassy slopes. 

And, from the mountain side. 
Echoes the sturdy woodman strokes. 

From morn till even-tide 
But a varied landscape still appears, 

As we follow the iron trail. 
Primeval forests, gorges drear 

Walled high with a rocky mail. 
In the willowy thickets, red deer hide 

Or sport in the open glade, 
Where nature holds court, and the cool waters glide 

And no hunter's alarms invade. 
Again, as we dash with clamor and clash, 

Through the rock-ribbed tunnel's night. 
Or with labored strain, and action rash 

We climb the crazy height. 
We recall once more the days of yore. 

And think how the scene has changed 
Since we sought in placer and mine, the ore 

That hid in these mountains, was stored. 
But the mountains remain; 

As then, so now. 
And many a landmark old. 

The tall cedars crown Nevada's brow. 
And Truckee's waters roll. 

But much has changed, and he who here 
Sits 'neath these pines, and sheds 

Reminiscent and farewell tears 



24 Voices of the Past 

Life's changing pathway treads. 

He 's changed, but still he 's true to you. 
Give as kindly a nod to each passer by 

As you give to me, to-day. 
Ye storm-tried Oaks, and swaying Pines, 

Old friends: a kind adieu. 
As over the hills, down Truckee stream 

I take my homeward way. 



Present and Future 25 



Fight the Good Fight 

Ho, weary toiler, neath the burning sun. 
Plodding, footsore, life's rough highway, 

Press on unflagging till the day is done, 
Make each hour count as best thou may. 

There is no joy in human hearts so pure 
As that which comes of duty done. 

There is no peace so lasting, sweet and sure 
As by self-sacrifice is won. 

If set thy path with thorns, 't is kindness done, 
To keep thee from injurious ease. 

If dark the night, thou seemingly alone, 
Be- think thee yet God sees, God sees. 

Though foes swarm thick as locusts on the land 
When Pharaoh withstood Moses' God, 

Gird close thine armor, be not thou unmanned 
Strike like a patriot for his native sod. 

Hast seen, on the fair forehead of the dawn 

Before the day ascends. 
Fairer than fairest gem by monarch worn, 

The star whose radiance transcends. 

All other glories of the regal night. 
Be faithful. Such reward is thine ! 



26 Voices of the Past 

Thus saith the One who walked clothed in white, 
Faithful and true, the Son divine. 

To him that overcometh I will give 

A crown of life, and in that crown shall shine 

With beams which through eternity shall live 
The Morning Star, for he is mine. 

Then, up, and on ; heed not the lurking foe 
Threatening alike, both flank and rear. 

Scorn such assailants! Be it shine to show 
Fronting the battle's tide, no fear. 

What though the trumpet's blast fill the air. 

Thy battle cry be, ''Truth and right" 
Where 'er the fight is thickest, be thou there. 

And thou shalt win, ere falls the night. 



Present and Future 27 

Going Home 

I 'm going home to Jesus 

On earth no more to wander. 

I 'm going home to Jesus, 
I cant stay here much longer. 

This world cannot allure, 

My friends are growing fewer. 

My heart turns home to Jesus 
And I must go. 

Chorus 

I 'm going home to Jesus, going home to Jesus ; 

I 'm going where the Tree of Life 's in bloom. 
I hear the angels calling, 

Their pinions bright, are shining. 
My heart turns home to Jesus 
And I must go. 

I Ve toiled in heat of summer. 

And in the cold of winter. 
And in my youth I often thought 

I 'd face the stormiest weather; 
But time has changed the old man : 

His head is bending low. 
His heart turns home to Jesus, 
And he must go. 



28 Voices of the Past 

Chorus 

I 'm going home to Jesus, going home to Jesus : 
I 'm going where the Tree of Life 's in bloom. 

I hear the angels calling, 

Their pinions, bright are shining. 

My heart turns home to Jesus 
And I must go. 

I 'm weary of life's journey, 
My feet are torn and bleeding. 

I 'm sad, and tired of sinning. 
Earth's joys are idle dreaming; 

My eyes are growing dimmer, 
Heaven's lights begin to glimmer, 

My heart turns home to Jesus, 
And I must go. 

Chorus 

I 'm going home to Jesus, going home to Jesus ; . 

I 'm going where the Tree of Life 's in bloom. 
I hear the angels calling. 

Their pinions bright are shining. 
My heart turns home to Jesus, 
And I must go. 



Present and Future 29 

The Harp of Gold 

From afar in the vaulted azure, 

From the depths of ether blue. 
Fall notes of entrancing grandeur, 

And a song that is ever new. 

I ask, as I sit and listen 

To the ethereal melody, 
O, to me might the joy be given 

To join in that heavenly lay. 

But my spirit droops in sadness 

And my heart within grows cold 
That alone can come such gladness 

To those who have harps of gold. 

Thus sang the old Musician 

As he sighed with a grief untold. 
Then he grasped his harp and whispered : 

*' Thou shalt win me a harp of gold. 

" In thy bosom are notes yet unbidden, 
All thy mysteries are not yet told. 
Breathe the cords that in thee lie hidden. 
And win me a harp of gold. 

" Many laurels of earth thou hast brought me, 
With the brightest my name is enrolled, 



30 Voices of the Past 

Now the joys of the blest thou shalt bring me 
And win me a harp of gold. 

" Speak of the voice of the whirlwind, 
Of the roar of the mad, rushing flood 
Speak of heights far up in the cloud land 
And the depths of the echoing wood. 

" Tell the joys of my free sunny childhood. 
Ere the shadowy path I *d trod, 
Tell of angels, blest angels who pointed 
My soul to heaven and God. 

*' Tell of unbattled armies, 

Where men for the right have stood, 
And of victories more glorious, 
By the peaceful Son of God. 

" Now, old harp, most truly I thank thee, 
For my soul with ecstacy thrills 
As the answering chords so grandly 
Vie with those on the heavenly hills. 

" But thy tones still add to my longing. 
A longing that cannot be told, 
To join the choir who are thronging 
The skies, with their harps of gold. 



Present and Future 31 

" Rest, harp ! Peace to thy throbbing wire. 
I will transcribe the tones thou hast told, 
And seek to catch those of the angelic choir 
As they tune their harps of gold." 

O'er his score of music bending, 

Sat the bard through the night hours weird. 
His pen o'er the pages straying. 

Till the end of the score appeared. 

His cheek grew wan with watching 

For many days had fled 
Since he closed his eyes in slumber. 

And he scarce had tasted bread. 

But his face now lit like the dawning, 

And his eyes with a joy supreme. 
Heaven will satisfy his longing 

And make real his golden dream. 

Then he grasped his harp and whispered : 

" Speak again as ne'er before, 
For although thou hast long been slighted 

I would strike thy chords once more. 

** But alas ! for the firm touch blighted. 
And alas for the eyes grown dim ! 
The tones in which once I delighted 
I may not recall them again. 



32 Voices of the Past 

" Alas ! I 'm thy master no longer. 
I '11 give thee a mistress to win. 
Here, daughter, thy hand will not falter, 
I would fain hear those chords once again." 

With skillful hand the daughter 

Struck the old lyre in song. 
And the throbbing chords made answer 

As the strain she thus prolonged. 

'T was a song the angels might envy. 

So rich, so sweet and true. 
For the bard had caught from the heavenly choir. 

The song that is ever new, 

And as the old man sat, half dreaming. 

While the magical numbers rolled. 
His spirit took flight in the gloaming. 

He has won his harp of gold. 



Present and Future 33 

Incident of the G. A. R. Encampment 
at Minneapolis, 1906 

Comrade, you hail from the Pine State, and I from 
Oregon, 

Half way between the oceans blue we meet. 
To talk of battles lost, and battles won. 

And those who wore the blue, with us to greet. 

Have you seen Fred, our old tent-mate ? blest if I think 
he 's here. 
I have his letter in my pocket now 
Saying he 'd meet us at the encampment, sure. 

But, Tom, his name's not on the register, it 's queer, 
I vow. 

But, what, old boy, you, too, are looking queer. 
Cheer up and tell me what 's the matter now, 

Is it about Fred, one to both so dear } 
Say, Tom, it can't be that, I 'low. 

Four years we fought the rebs, and sometimes bled, 
And I never saw you shed a tear till now. 

Why, Tom, it must be someone's dead. 
I 'm feeling queer about the eyes myself. 

Don't say who 'tis, it 's just as plain unsaid. 

Fred gone ^ It 's hard to make it seem quite true. 



34 Voices of the Past 

He was the youngest of the three, what, dead! Fred 
dead? 
Why, Tom, as I 'm a sinner, I am crying too. 

No better soldier ever fired a gun than Fred, 
So General Nelson said at Shiloh's fight, 

An' added something more 'twere best unsaid. 
But then we know old Nelson meant all right. 

Fred had the flag that day and led the van. 
And though twice hit, until the fight was won, 

And through the woods the frightened rebels ran, 
Right in the hottest fire, he still fought on. 

"Look there!" the general cried. "Superb, superb! 

I love a man who fears not shot or shell. 
Had I a brigade of such men, upon my word, 

I 'd storm the gates of hell." 

Yes, Fred was a good boy, and true as steel. 

I shall be lonely now. 
For since my Mary died I 've felt 

The world was empty, but for you and Fred, I vow. 

And now Fred 's gone, and you so far away. 

With Jane to help you to forget. 
Poor Fred, and I — Tom, say. 

Ain't it the saddest time we ever met ? 



Present and Future 35 

You mind the morning we left home (more 'n forty 
year ago ?) 

To join the army at the front. 
Mary stood leaning on the gate alone. 

Since then do n't seem as many months. 

She waved her 'kerchief as we passed. 

Lord, how the boys did cheer : 
And I — one look — somehow, I knew it was the last, 

What, crying again, can't help it, Tom, she was so 
very dear. 

They 're forming column, are they, down on the 
avenue ? 
I suppose we'd ought to march with the old boys 
once more. 
But, Tom, I 'm thinking 'tis my last review 
For soon I '11 join my Mary on the other shore. 

Then let us limber up our legs for one more march 
Beneath the flag we followed in the past, 

And in this grand encampment do our part, 
Perhaps, old comrade, 'tis the last. 



36 Voices of the Past 



An Invalid's Reverie 

I thought as I sat in my easy chair, 

At my chamber window one day, 
Such thoughts as come to the weary there 

When shut from the world away. 
I said to myself, look out or look in. 

Look out at the world passing by. 
Or turn again to the soul within 

With its ever recurring Why ? 
It 's ever the same. Why this, and why that. 

And what is the use of it all ? 
Why fever and chills, headache and all that 

O'er earth the cloud-shadows fall ? 
Why sorrow invades earth's brightest domain 

Shrouding hearts and hearths with its pall ? 
Why war banish peace, and hate banish love. 

The few the many enthrall ? 
Why the poor grow poorer, and the rich grow 
rich, 

And justice desert her hall ? 
Why man for vile pelf, his own little self 

Should worship as god over all ? 
Why the buyer and seller are off the same piece. 

Each sure, when he can, the other to fleece ? 
In politics, law, or what business you please 

You must have an eye out or you'll get in the 
squeeze. 



Present and Future 37 

Why the man of small brains, if his pocket-book 's fat, 

Should look down on his neighbor with scorn, 
and all that. 
Who, though his coat be poor, and his pocket-book flat. 

Has a big heart within, and a well filled hat ? 
Why should D. D.'s and M. D.'s so fully prescribe 

For man's spiritual ailments, and his body outside, 
When the first will not practice his own metaphysics. 

And the latter, alas, will not take his own physics. 
Why should the fine lady when out on the street. 

If perchance a less fortunate one she meet. 
Just turn up her nose with an *' O fie, what a hat 

I 'd stay right at home, or dress better than that." 
Or why thus Mrs. A at her window within 

A-spying a neighbor just coming in, 
" There 's that hateful huzzy. I do n't care a pin. 

I 've just a good mind to not let her in." 
But look at the smile on Mrs A's face. 

As the other she meets with angelic grace. 
" And I 'm so glad to see you, pray do come in, 

It 's so long since we met, why, where have you been ? 
What a love of a hat ! Take this easy chair, 

I'm just dying to talk with you about that affair. 
You 'd not heard of it ? I do declare. 

Why all, quite all the elite were there. 
Miss M looked so lovely in that cream satin gown 

And what do you think ? She was there with Jim 
Brown. 



38 Voices of the Past 

But, it may be a mere flirtation, who knows, 

What, you don't care for Jim ? You blush like a 
rose. 
Perhaps it 's mere gossip, and that is a sin. 

I 'm sorry I spoke of it, you poor silly thing 
Why, dear, must you go ? then pray call again. 

But, (aside) I think she '11 not find me in." 
Why should women forget the old orthodox way 

And thus from the precept so far go astray 
That instead of well seeking her own house to rule, 

She is stirring up mud in the political pool. 
Why the followers of Him who's banner is peace, 

Love God and your neighbor, let knowledge in- 
crease. 
Or battle for creeds with might against right 

And send out their Satoli's to turn down the light. 
Why is the world but an if or a but 

Not a yes or a no ? To sum it all up 
Why the upas of sin, since Adam's downfall 

Cast its poisonous shade o'er our garden wall ? 
Thus, and no farther my thoughts could fly 

For its a question that 's puzzled the world, this why. 
When, lo, at my hand, on my window sill sitting 

A rose from its bloom grateful odor emitting. 
That flower, full blown, turned not to the shadows 

But outward and upward to meet the sun's rays, 
So the soul in this world, with evil bedight. 

Should so much the more be turned to the light. 



Present and Future 39 



The Last Tribute 

The day has come again, my Annie, dear; 

Just forty years ago, since we were wed, you know; 
So pleasantly has flown each passing year 

I cannot make it seem so long ago. 

Ah, well do I remember that glad morn. 

How bright the sky, how sweet the scented air, 

The lark's song overhead, the flowering thorn. 
All nature seemed to wake our joys to share. 

One flower there was, so shy and rare a thing, 
I hied me to the woods, and sought it there 

Among the first pale blossoms of the spring. 
And saw it braided in your shining hair. 

Since then, for two score years, at each return 
Of April sun, I have like offering made. 

And once again, to deck fond memory's urn, 

Bright flowers I 've brought from sunny woodlands 
glade. 

But, Annie, dear, these are the last; no more 

Shall I my yearly tribute bring 
To you, my love, whom mind and heart adore 

The first pale blossoms of the spring. 



40 Voices of the Past 

But what is that upon your cheek — a tear ? 

Those flowers — you do not braid them in your hair. 
Don't mind, my Annie, though they blossom rare. 

Don't mind, the "almond blossoms"* are as fair. 

'Tis sweet that I go first, this is my prayer. 
But you will meet me, Annie, over there; 

And flowers white, than aught on earth more rare. 
Will glisten in the crown you then shall wear. 
* White hairs. 



Present and Future 41 

A Prayer 

For this we pray, 
God grant the day 

May come, and soon ; 
When Hght shall shine, 
When love divine 

Shall scatter gloom. 
When sorrow's night 
Shall take its flight, 

And joy resume. 
When wrong shall fail 
And right prevail. 

Truth's flowers bloom. 
When earth's glad throng, 
Shall join the song 

Which angels tune. 
When Peace shall reign. 
Love's oriflame 

The world illume. 



42 Voices of the Past 

The Veteran's Story of Gettysburg 

Was I at Gettysburg ? Well, I should say, 

Some more of me was there than came away. 

Perhaps you 've noticed, I have one good leg, 

And half of 'tother is a hickory peg. 

Did I lose a leg in that fierce fight ? 

Wall, Comrade, you 're 'bout half-way right. 

I did n't altogether lose a leg there. 

One half a leg was all that I could spare. 

How did it happen ? Well, 't was this way. See ? 

We 'd been with Burnside, fightin' Lee. 

Burnside had bit more 'n he could chew, 

For Lee 'd forgot more 'n Burnside ever knew. 

An' kind'r backed off, bout a mile or so, 

Jus' makin' believe that he would run, you know, 

Until he got on Maryies Heights 

Behind his works, then he began to fight. 

Burnside had planned to take Bob's army in 

But found, instead, his own was in the pen. 

He thought he 'd whip the Johnnies ; but 

'T was he 't was whipped, as pretty as could be. 

Then General Hooker tried his hand; they called him 

Fightin' Joe, 
But he had to "git out o' the wilderness" in a way 

that was n't slow. 
He had the sand, but lacked the gumption, sure as 

you are born. 



Present and Future 43 

And yet, perhaps the reason was, he 'd taken too big 

a ''Horn." 
Then Lee struck out for Maryland, as straight as he 

could steer. 
We foller in, right careful not to get too near 
For the fact on 't was, you see. Comrade, the question 

stood about thus, 
Whether we were huntin' rebs as they were huntin' 

us. 
By reconnoitering a spell, we found they had gone 

north. 
Crossed the Potomac at the fords, and, marching back 

and forth 
Just coolly made themselves at home a-meddling with 

our biz, 
Milkin' our cows, an' such, our fightin' dander riz. 
An' marchin' straight on Gettysburg, our vanguard 

struck Lee's rear. 
Lee about faced, an' turned on us, as mad as a she 

bear. 
But he found out, right then and there, this game of 

bluff was played. 
John Buford's troopers formed in line an' charged him 

undismayed. 
Brave Reynolds came on double-quick, with his iron 

brigade, too. 
They were all veterans, good men, you bet, an' 

true. 



44 Voices of the Past 

The rebs came on, corps after corps, 'till land, you 

could n't rest. 
We had but one corps in the fight — so came off second 

best. 
Then Howard with his Dutchmen came an' formed up 

on our right. 
They loved sour kraut, an' lager beer, an' just as well 

to fight. 
But the first day at Gettysburg, we could n't claim we 

won 
'Cause, fate on 't was, the rebs had there 'bout two to 

our one. 
But the second day, you 'd better believe, we gave 'um 

hail Columbia, 
Enough, we rather thought, just then, to last 'em over 

Sunday. 
But ole Bob Lee, he sent out word an' called his gen- 
erals round him, 
An' told 'em, they, next day, would get up early in the 

mornin'. 
An' start out 'fore the breakfast call an' try to catch 

us nappin'. 
They tried it, but, first thing they knew, they found 

themselves a scratchin' 
Back, down from Cemetery Hill, as though ole Nick 

was at 'em. 
With shot and shell an' bayonet, we drove 'em 'crost 

the valley. 



Present and Future 45 

On top of Seminary Ridge, when they begin to rally. 
An' got behind their gravel banks an' burrowin' there 

hke bunnies, 
"Come on, you bloody Yanks," they cried, an' we, 

*' How are you. Johnnies ? 
You came up north to have some fun! You 've had 

all you '11 git in it. 
Now don't you think you 'd better run ? This fight, 

you '11 never win it." 
We rather thought they had lit out, an' taken our 

advice. 
For all that night 'till next day noon, they kept as 

still as mice 
Then all at once, one hundred guns burst forth with 

flash and roar, 
An' quicker'n I am tellin' on't spake our one hundred 

more. 
The air was hot with hissing balls on Cemetery Hill, 
An' we sent back our compliments; the rebels got 

their fill. 
Brave Hancock's corps did there such deeds that all the 

world has wondered. 
Dan Sickles reaped great swathes of rebs 
And Longstreet's cannon thundered. 
Then suddenly there was a hush, you might a heard a 

pin drop. 
Then twenty thousand rebs charged down from Semi- 
nary Hill-top. 



46 Voices of the Past 

One half score thousand formed their front, led on by 

General Picket. 
Ten thousand more their second line, their bayonets 

like a thicket. 
It was a pretty sight, you bet. We could n't help but 

cheer 'em. 
*'They are brave men!" our General said, *'but boys, 

you do not fear 'em : 
Now take good aim, an' fire at will!" each man of us 

obeyed 
An' quicker 'n I am tellin' on't we spoiled their dress 

parade. 
They about faced those gallant rebs led on by General 

Picket 
** We '11 charge the other way" he said, 
*' And boys, we '11 double-quick it." 
"Close up" cried Meade. "Fix bayonets, right here 

we '11 make an end on 't." 
We charged, an' took 'em in by Corps, comrade, you 

may depend on 't, 
Such work ! it was but half an hour since Picket led 

his men on. 
An' now he 'd but a handful left; an' one poor tattered 

pennon. 
It was a welcome sight to us, the rebel army fly- 
ing. 
An' sad, for out upon the plain, in piles, they lay 

a-dying, 



Present and Future 47 

'T was death, death everywhere, by cannon, shot and 

mortar. 
'T was death by ball an' bayonet: O heaven, what a 

slaughter ! 
But what 's the use for me to try to picture out a 

battle ? 
The war is past. Peace came at last, an' ceased the 

muskets' rattle. 
We whipped the Johnnies on that field, they whipped 

us well on others. 
Four years we called them enemies, but now we call 

them brothers. 
Now 'bout my leg! Why, sure enough, I pray you 

will excuse me. 
But the fact on 't was, I 'd taken somethin' t' made 

me kind o' boozy. 
An' when I saw a cannon ball a bumpin' and a jumpin' 
I had so little gumption left, I thought it was a pumpkin 
An' so I stuck my right foot out an' thought I 'd try 

to stop it. 
But the pesky thing kept right along an' took my leg 

'long with it. 
Hard was it ? Wall, 't was rather hard, but then, we 

all lost somethin' ; 
We captured twenty thousand rebs an' gained a 

glorious victory. 
I lost about half of my right leg, an' gained this piece 

of hickory. 



48 Voices of the Past 



A Voice from Manila Harbor 

On fair Luzon the sun had set beyond the red 

horizon, 
And night her sable mantle spread, which stars alone 

shed light on. 



When suddenly a rocket's glare shot high a fiery 

beacon. 
'T was Dewey, who was mustering there his ships to 

bring a fight on. 

The Spanish fleet had sailed that day into Manila 

harbor. 
They 'd formed their line of battle there, and said 

they 'd go no farther. 

Till they had sent the Yankee fleet to Davy Jones' 
locker. 

When Dewey heard the Spaniards' boast, he straight- 
way gave the order. 

We '11 sail to-night : By morning light we '11 reach 

Manila harbor. 
'T would have done you good (I think) to 've heard 

the Yankee tars hurrah there. 



Present and Future 49 

It woke Old Neptune from his lair, you 'd thought 

he 'd had the nightmare. 
" Up anchor boys" brave Dewey said " I know you will 

not falter. 

To-morrow '11 be a gala day, so put each ship in 

order!" 
They sailed that night, by morning light they reached 
Manila harbor. 

The Spaniards fired a random gun, then straightway 

beat, to quarters. 
For yonder comes the Yankee fleet, straight onward to 

the slaughter. 

" Stand to your guns, boys" Dewey said " I know you 

will not falter," 
We 're going to send the Spanish ships to Davy Jones' 

locker." 

An answering broadside roused the echoes in Manila 

harbor. 
And smote the foeman anchored there, like hand of 

the destroyer. 

Such bolts as Vulcan never forged, an iron hailstorm 
Fell, as like the fiends had hurled from out hell's fiery 
maelstrom. 



50 Voices of the Past 

When lifts the war cloud, it reveals the Spanish fleet 

all wrecked there. 
'T was glad, 't was sad, for on their decks in piles they 

lay and died there. 

Proud Spain, of yore, thou 'rt humbled now ! No more 

the poor and lowly 
Thou 'It grind beneath thy cruel heel along the path, 

so gory. 

Thou 'rt come to judgment now : the witnesses are 

many 
That call for vengeance on thy head for crimes of 

shocking mem'ry. 

The Inquisition's rack and flame; the dungeon's 

Stygian gloom. 
Within whose horrid walls the patriot met his doom. 

Long hast thou cast thy Upas shade o'er Cuba's 

garden wall, 
And fairest isles on oceans wave, have drained thy 

cup of gall. 

And now, alas for thee, thy turn has come to drink 

like bitter draught. 
To that which fair Luzon at thy proud beck has 

quaffed. 



Present and Future 51 

Thy once puissant arm is nerveless now. 
There 's none so low, as to poor Spain to bow 

Thy ships, that once on every sea, so proudly bore 

thy banner, 
Now silent lie beneath the wave, sunk in Manila harbor. 



